The Lottery Winner (7 page)

“Yes and yes.”

Dumbfounded by his unexpected assistance, it took her a moment to kick into gear. The bartender gave her the pad. She passed it to Logan.

“Which section should I take?”

She told him.

“Got it.” And then he walked off, leaving her with a tray of drinks to deliver and a load of questions.

Who was this man? The suspicious control freak who watched her and tried to micromanage Miri, or a devoted nephew who would do anything to help his aunt? She had to find out.

* * *

T
HE
MUSIC
WENT
silent then all but the main dining room's lights went dark. Jessie dropped the last refilled saltshaker into the holder and stretched her tired back.

Miri came out of the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine. “Girls, we deserve a glass.”

“Amen,” Sue said and ducked behind the bar to snag three glasses and a corkscrew, leaving Jessie with the impression the women had shared nightcaps before.

“Jessie, dump that and join us,” Miri insisted. “I sent Logan off with the night deposit ten minutes ago. We should have a few minutes' peace. C'mon,” she added when Jessie hesitated.

This was the perfect opportunity to find out whether he was Jekyll or Hyde. After seeing how well he'd interacted with tonight's guests, Jessie was more confused than ever. She carried the box to the kitchen and returned.

Miri eased into a chair as if her body ached. “I haven't had to bus tables in ages. I forgot how hard it was.”

Sue sank across from her even more slowly. “Tonight required more hustle than I had in me. Busy season's starting. Better find some new blood soon. I'm not sure how many weeks like this I can handle. And we still have tomorrow to get through. I couldn't have made it without your help, Jessie. Don't think I didn't notice you grabbing my orders.” She pulled a wad of bills from her pocket. “You deserve half of this.”

Touched by the gesture, Jessie shook her head. “No, Sue. Thank you, but I don't want your tips. My mama always taught me to pitch in when needed. That's all I was doing.”

Blushing, the woman hesitated, then nodded and repocketed her money. “Your mama raised a fine girl.”

Miri filled and distributed the glasses then lifted hers and sampled the golden liquid. “Mmm. This is good. I'll have to stock more of it.”

“I'll second that,” Sue added after tasting.

Jessie searched for a way to settle her curiosity. “It was nice of Logan to help. He really seemed to know what he was doing.”

Miri nodded. “Logan came to live with me and Jack six months after his mother died. He did everything from fishing and filleting with Jack's crew to bussing tables then waiting them here. He's a hard worker. I'll give him that.”

“Wasn't his dad around?” Jessie asked.

“Carter buried himself in his grief and his work after Virginia passed and forgot all about parenting his son. By the time I figured out Carter wasn't going to snap out of it, Logan had become a pro at fetching his own groceries, fixing his meals and getting himself to school. He covered for his father so well not even the school counselor suspected anything was wrong.”

Sue nodded. “And Carter didn't even notice. That hasn't changed.”

Jessie'd had students in similar, or even worse, situations to Logan's, and she sympathized. She'd been blessed with involved parents, and hers had always been there to offer encouragement, guidance or a reprimand when needed. She depended on them as sounding boards—which was why living solo was so hard now.

Sue's reply raised more questions about Logan, but Jessie didn't want to seem too curious. “How old was Logan when he came here?”

Miri chuckled and shook her head. “Thirteen going on thirty. He tried to be the man of the house whenever Jack was away. Made for some interesting territorial squabbles between him and me.”

“Those squabbles returned when he did. Makes both of you hard to live with,” Sue added with the kind of candor only true friends could share. “Where'd you grow up, Jessie?”

Jessie ducked her head and bought time by sipping her wine. The cool liquid slid down her throat like ambrosia. She hadn't had any one-on-one time with Sue and should have anticipated questions. How much could she safely reveal? “I grew up on a farm. You?” she asked hoping to derail the questioning.

“I'm a local. Been widowed more years than I was married. I didn't pick a good husband the first time or the second. Decided to forgo a third attempt. No kids. Got a boyfriend?”

So much for changing the topic. “Not anymore.”

“You end it? Or did he?” Sue persisted, making Jessie squirm.

“I did.”

“Miss him?”

Jessie closed her eyes and tried to recall Aaron's features. But instead of her ex-fiancé's, the image burned on her retinas was one of tanned flesh tightly wrapped over muscles. Logan. In swim trunks. She gulped her wine and shook her head to banish the image. “Not even a little bit.”

She realized that at some point since leaving home she'd quit second-guessing whether she'd wronged Aaron by choosing her family over him, as he'd accused. Her father was right. If her fiancé had truly loved her, he would have signed the prenuptial agreement her family insisted she ask for instead of throwing a tantrum and demanding she choose between him and them.

When had that forgetting him part happened?

“What about your parents, Jessie? Are they missing you?”

“Oh, Sue, leave her be,” Miri objected.

Jessie wanted to hug Miri for intervening. “They know where I am and are probably jealous of my beach vacation.”

“Some vacation. You're working your patootie off,” Sue grumbled.

“I don't mind. I'm actually happy to help.” Thrilled to see the bottom of her glass and the end of this conversation, Jessie rose. The room swayed, forcing her to grab the back of her chair.

Miri sprang to her feet and caught Jessie's elbow. Her eyes widened with alarm. “Are you okay?”

Jessie blinked to clear her head. “I'm fine. I guess I shouldn't have had wine on an empty stomach.”

“When did you eat last?” Miri asked.

Jessie scrolled though her memory then grimaced. “Breakfast?”

Tsking, Sue rose. “You never took a lunch or dinner break?” She didn't wait for Jessie's answer. “Sit down, child. I'll get you a bowl of clam chowder.”

“You don't have to do that, Sue.”

“You took care of me. Now I'm returning the favor. Sit. I ain't letting you leave till you eat some'n.” Then she hustled off to the kitchen.

Jessie glanced at Miri for backup, but Miri only shrugged. “You might as well listen to her. She's a mother hen. Don't know how I would have gotten through losing Jack without her. Down here in the Keys, we look out for our own.”

But she wasn't one of theirs and never would be. Jessie eased back into her seat.

“And, Jessie, don't let me hear about you skipping breaks again. I know we were busy and your intentions were good, but I can't have you neglecting yourself. The employment folks would have my head—if Logan didn't get it first.”

“I'm sorry. I won't.”

“I'll go back through the applications tomorrow and see if I can find any that come close to my minimal standards to give 'em a chance. I hate that we lost BeBe, but waitressing wasn't really her thing, was it?”

“No.”

Sue returned with a bowl of soup and a basket of crackers. “I heated it up a bit.”

“Thank you, Sue.” Jessie's stomach rumbled in anticipation. She put a spoonful of the thick, creamy, clam-laden chowder in her mouth and moaned. “I know now why your recipe's so popular, Miri.”

“It's Sue's mom's recipe. But thanks. Eat up.”

The women chatted while she ate, making Jessie miss Sunday afternoons at home with her extended family. Her aunts always gathered around the table to sip coffee and chat while the men retreated to the den to watch whatever sport was on TV. She was halfway through the bowl when the front door lock clicked open.

Logan strolled in, took one look at the bottle on the table and grinned. That grin sent her stomach and appetite AWOL. “Up to your old tricks, I see.”

Miri rose. “Just taking the edge off our aches. Too bad there's none left for you. I'm going to run Sue home. Will you make sure Jessie finishes every last drop of her dinner, then see her back to her place?”

Jessie dropped her spoon in dismay. “That's not necessary. I only had one glass of wine. I can drive.”

“You almost passed out on me. Either Logan follows you or I drive you. And, honey, I'm dead on my feet. What's it going to be? Me making the trip tonight and then again tomorrow to pick you up, or Logan following you home?”

Stuck between a bad choice and a worse one, Jessie realized she'd have to lie. Again. Not a habit she enjoyed acquiring. But she'd figure out how to ditch Logan after the older women left. There was no way she'd let him follow her home. “He can see me home.”

Nodding, Miri left with Sue on her heels.

The moment the door closed behind them, Jessie stood and faced Logan.

“What happened?” Logan demanded.

“Nothing except I forgot to eat today. That and the wine made me a little light-headed. But I'm fine now that I've eaten and I'm steady on my feet. There's no need for you to follow me home.”

“I said I would, and I'm not lying to Miri.”

“I'm trying to save you a drive far out of your way.”

“You heard her. If something happened to you, blame would be on my doorstep. I already know where you live, Jessie. What are you afraid of? That I'll interrupt something at your place that you don't want me to see?”

“Why do you insist on thinking the worst of me?”

“Because you're not telling the whole truth. Are you?”

What could she say? “Let me wash my bowl before we go.”

So much for her plan to ditch him.

CHAPTER FIVE

J
ESSIE
DROVE
TOWARD
Big Pine Key with her eyes repeatedly flicking to the rearview mirror. Her wipers intermittently swept the misty rain from her windshield.

She didn't like Logan following her home—she had to find a way to get rid of him. She flipped on her blinker when she reached her turnoff. He did the same. An eerie sense of déjà vu hit her. Suddenly his headlights looked familiar.

She'd been too irritated to notice earlier. But she could thank her paranoid brother for making her hypervigilant of such things as a bulb being out of line on the driver's side of a car tailing her.

Logan Nash was a sneaky, devious, lying bastard.

She whipped into her driveway, stopping inches short of the closed gate, then launched from her car when he pulled in behind her. She was too peeved to care about her hair and clothing getting wet.

Logan opened his door and stepped out onto the crushed oyster shells. “I'm supposed to see you inside. Miri's orders.”

As the youngest of three and a teacher of sometimes challenging kids, she had no problem going toe-to-toe with anyone. She did that now and quickly realized her mistake. Logan was too close. Too big. Too intimidating. But she couldn't back down—not even when his narrowed blue gaze made her pulse skip and her mouth go dry.

The closest streetlamp was a hundred yards away. Confronting a near stranger who had followed her home before and been inside her house to see that she lived alone was probably not her brightest move. And her pepper spray was in her purse in the car. She should be afraid. But fear wasn't the reaction Logan elicited. Anger? Definitely. Agitation? Without a doubt. Awareness? In double doses. No doubt about it—if Logan Nash wasn't such an ass, he'd be attractive. Acknowledging that only upped her anger thermometer.

“You followed me home Tuesday night,” she accused.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels, not looking the least bit daunted by her charge, but at least the action gave her a few precious inches of space and breathing room. “Why would I do that?”

“You tell me. Your driver's side headlight is angled too far in. A car with the same problem tailed me from Key West Tuesday. Spotting me on the dock was no coincidence. Was it?”

His hesitation was slight but noticeable. “It's my job to protect Miri.”

“From what? I'm no threat!”

“I've yet to meet a criminal who admits guilt before being caught red-handed.”

“I am
not
a criminal.”

“You've conned Miri into not running a background check on you, verifying your references or requiring a drug test, and you refuse to provide your tax information—a federal violation. Why would you do that unless you're hiding something?”

He had a point. “We've been over this before. I don't know what else I can say to reassure you I won't hurt Miri.”

“You could tell me how a waitress can afford to stay there.” He pointed to the shadow of her rental.

She'd have to give him something to get him off her case before he sicced his bloodhound on discovering the truth—if he hadn't already.

“I came into a little money and paid for an extended vacation so I could paint.” Truth. She was getting the payout little bits at a time for the next fifty years or so.

“A vacation from what?”

“My job.”

“Doing what?” When she remained silent he said, “See? Still keeping secrets. And you expect me to trust you?”

“I'm not your ex-wife,” she snapped then immediately wished she hadn't when he jerked to attention.

“You've been gossiping.”

Her face burned, making her thankful for the murky light. He'd think she was interested in him. “I overheard. I'm not the least bit interested in getting into your business. I wish you'd stay out of mine.”

“Wouldn't you do whatever was necessary to protect your family?”

She had and still was. But she couldn't say that. “You've seen me home, Logan. Good night.”

When he made no move to leave, she climbed back into her car and waited for him to do the same. Then she pushed the remote to open the gate and drove her car through. When he rolled forward as if to follow her, she stomped her brakes just inside the fence. Behind her, Logan did the same. She pressed the button again, and the tall gate closed in the foot-wide gap between their vehicles. Her last view before she hit the gas pedal was his scowl in her red taillights. She'd probably pay for her escape tomorrow.

But he wasn't getting back into her house.

* * *

M
IRI
INTERCEPTED
ANOTHER
dark look between Logan and Jessie as they prepped the tables prior to opening for Sunday lunch. Jessie's pointedly cool manner toward her nephew was impossible to miss.

Sue hiked her penciled eyebrows. “What gives?”

Miri shrugged. “Having Logan follow Jessie home last night might have been a mistake.”

But she'd had no choice. Although Jessie hadn't had enough to drink to be dangerous, she had been woozy, and Sue didn't see well enough to drive in the dark when it was raining—even if she refused to admit it. Both women had needed tending.

“Ya think?”

“It's a shame, because he needs someone like her.”

“A woman with a mysterious past?” Sue asked with a touch of sarcasm.

“Oh, hush. You know what I mean. She's a hard worker, and even if she won't tell us what's going on, she's proven she has a heart of gold time and time again. And just yesterday, when that elderly man accidentally tipped her with a hundred-dollar bill instead of a ten, she chased him down the sidewalk to return it.”

“We'd be in a world of hurt without her—especially with Pam out again.” Sue shifted, looking uncomfortable. “I understood your need to start opening seven days a week after Jack died. You had to keep busy and you were afraid of losing the Widow. And I managed okay when we had a full staff and I had days off, but these last couple of weeks have been hell, Miri. I can't do it anymore.”

Alarm shot through her. Sue couldn't quit. She was more like family than an employee. “I'll find someone—several someones—
soon
.”

“It's time to find something to do besides work until you collapse from exhaustion every night. You need to start living for something or someone other than this place.” The criticism stung. “Look who's talking.”

“Hey, I tried to find love again. Twice. But the last one almost got me arrested. If you and Jack hadn't vouched for me I'd have been locked up with that miserable, lying piece of trash.”

“We knew you didn't know he was making meth in his welding shop.”

“You and Jack stood by me through some ugly and difficult times. That's why I've stuck out the extra hours this long without griping. But I need my days off to recuperate. My knees and back are hurting so bad at night I can't sleep.”

Desperate, Miri grabbed Sue's hand. “It won't be much longer. I promise.”

“You're missing the point, and I love you enough to beat you over the head with it until you get it. But I guess I have to be blunt. For years you've condemned Carter for burying himself in his work after Virginia died, but you've done the same thing. Your brother-in-law isn't the only workaholic in the family.”

She couldn't have been more offended if Sue had spat on her. “I am not a workaholic!”

“Yes. You are. Snap out of it before you alienate everyone who loves you.”

Flustered but unable to come up with an argument to prove Sue wrong, Miri dismissed the idea. “We have a line forming outside. I have to open up.”

“My point exactly,” Sue muttered. “You dodge your problems by working.”

Miri ignored her and called out to the woman working stiffly alongside Logan, “Jessie, don't forget to take your breaks and eat something today.”

Jessie's face flushed. “I won't forget.”

“I'll see that she doesn't,” Logan stated.

Making note of Logan's protectiveness, Miri crossed the room and unlocked the door. Ignatius stood at the front of the line. She couldn't stifle her involuntary recoil. A confrontation with him was the last thing she needed after Sue's bombshell.

His smile fell. “Good morning to you, too, Miriam Louise.”

He plowed forward, taking the door from her and forcing her out of his way in his bulldozer manner. He held it open with one hand. The other he kept behind his back.

“Please come in,” the pushy bastard invited the dozen or so people behind him as if he owned the place.

It took everything Miri had in her to bite her tongue on the urge to tell him to take his bossy attitude and his name-calling and go away as she greeted the guests streaming past. Assuming he'd take his usual perch at the bar, she ignored him and seated the others. When she returned to the hostess stand he was waiting.

“These are for you,” he said, producing an enormous and beautiful bouquet of mixed blooms. That he'd been able to conceal something that size made her realize how broad his shoulders were. Not that she cared.

“For what?”

Instead of being insulted by her suspicious reaction, he laughed. “Relax. I'm not asking you out. These are a thank-you for making dinner with my daughter so special. She said she wants to do it again. So do the girls. That means a lot to me, Miri.”

His earnestness deflated her anger. “You're welcome and thank you, Ignatius.”

She enjoyed his wince at his full name—but she owed him. Burying her face in the blossoms, she inhaled their heady fragrance.

He cleared his throat. “I thought you might want to go out on my boat on your next day off.”

Good grief. Give the man an inch... “That sounds like you're asking me out.”

“Nah. Logan mentioned how much you enjoyed fishing with your husband but that you'd had to sell his boat to hold on to this place. I thought you might like a day on the water. We can fish or not. Up to you. I'll even pack a picnic so you won't have to deal with the food.”

Distrusting his offer, she squinted at him. “That still sounds like a date. And I don't date, Ignatius. Not because I'm hung up on the past. But because I don't have the time, need or desire for another man in my life.”

“Sheesh, woman. Then pack your own lunch and pay half for the gas. I'm just trying to give you the chance to enjoy something you used to like.”

His exasperation made her feel ungrateful and embarrassed. “Thank you. But I don't have days off. We're open seven days a week. Do you want a table today or are you sitting at the bar?”

“Neither. I did what I came for. Have a good one, Miri.” He tapped two fingers to his forehead, then left, doubling her shame. He'd made a special trip, and she'd treated him like a bill collector.

But no matter what he said, his invitation smelled fishy. She watched him leave, noting his confident stride. He wasn't bad looking if you liked your men big all over. And he was still fit despite his retirement. But she couldn't help making the contrast to Jack, who'd been tall and whipcord lean. Sure, Jack had been muscled, but not with Ignatius's breadth.

Sue paused by the counter and eyed the bouquet. “When's the last time someone brought you flowers?”

Miri tried to recall and couldn't. Jack had always brought her things he'd found, like pretty shells, unusual pieces of driftwood or paintings. “It's just a thank-you for setting up the meal with his daughter.”

“He'd be a perfect place to start over—unless you don't like handsome, well-dressed, polite men with good teeth and a full head of hair.”

She needed to turn up the air-conditioning. It was hot in here. “I need to get a vase.”

She hustled to the kitchen, putting thoughts of Sue and the pushy PI behind her. She didn't want a man in her life. She had the Fisherman's Widow, and keeping it open took all her time and energy. And she was not burying herself in her work. She was doing what she loved.

* * *

J
ESSIE
SCANNED
THE
ominous sky beyond the outside dining area. The sunny morning was becoming a stormy afternoon. Boat traffic had thinned out, and even the birds had taken cover elsewhere. Dark smudges of purples, blacks and charcoals encroached on the horizon. Her fingers itched for a brush. She'd use watercolors to achieve that layered effect. Maybe she'd have time to paint it tomorrow.

Only one fortyish man remained seated in her section. She laid his bill on the table. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“Nah.” He tilted his head and examined her through narrowed eyes. “Don't I know you from somewhere?”

She studied his unfamiliar face and shook her head. Was that a pickup line? If so, it was an old one. “I don't think so.”

“I'm sure I do. I've been trying to place you.”

His conviction sent prickles of uneasiness up her spine. She forgot names but never faces. Had he seen her in the news when her lottery win had been announced? Surely he couldn't recognize her with dark hair and brown contacts? “Sorry. I guess I just have one of those faces.”

“Where are you from?”

Trying to conceal her growing discomfort, she glanced toward the open dining room windows. Logan was close enough to hear her if she needed help. Battling the urge to retreat, she scrambled for an answer. “I live down the road.”

“But you're not a local,” he pressed.

“There aren't many of those in Key West,” she said, trying to make light of his remark. She edged toward the door.

“Yeah, but I know you from somewhere other than here. I just can't figure out where.”

“Jessie.” She jumped at the sound of Logan's voice immediately behind her. Although she'd been doing her best to avoid him today, she was relieved by the interruption. She angled herself so she could keep an eye on both threats—Logan and the customer.